


Swords Dance

by AlexSeanchai (EllieMurasaki)



Series: Pound (It) [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blow Jobs, Community: dick_or_treat, F/F, F/M, Female Adrien Agreste, First Time, Hand Jobs, Ladrien | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Misgendering, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Other, Outdoor Sex, Podfic Welcome, Queer Het, Trans Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 12:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: Adrien catches their hand. "What are you doing?" he whispers, and Ladybug looks up: darkened eyes, flushed face, wrinkled brow. Like he wants them. But he's not quite sure."I heard you playing Fuck Marry Kill," Ladybug says, pitched low and with a slow smile. (It's true; Marinette did.) "I heard you want to fuck me."Adrien sputters a moment, and looks up and west, biting his lip, and down at them again. "Are you offering?""Well," says Ladybug, and moves to lift their hand away from his hipbone. "If you don'twantto…"(Three minutes.)When Chatonne Noire has to leave an akuma battle early, closeted trans girl "Adrien" steps in to help and gets injured in the process. With the battle over, Ladybug seizes the chance to make sure Adrien is okay…personally.





	Swords Dance

**Author's Note:**

> About my categorization: one participant thinks this encounter is accurately described as femslash, the other that it's not inaccurately described as het. The first one is closer but they're both wrong; hence tagging Misgendering.
> 
> Socchan is awesome beta 😻

Chatonne Noire is out of Ladybug's sight for the moment, and more to the point, out of the akuma's field of view: six minutes since Cataclysm, one and a half since Chatonne bolted, probably one or two more till Plagg's been fed and Chatonne is back in the game. Ladybug can't wait, though, not when this akuma is determined to slice M. D'Argencourt and half his students to ribbons—

Wait. Ladybug thought Adrien _ran_. They thought he was evacuating the fencing team; they thought he was out of range! But here he is, épée in hand, countering and parrying Flèche's every attack, keeping the akumatized boy's attention on him. Adrien's lost his overshirt, and as Ladybug scans the battlefield to figure out what to do with their Lucky Charm, Adrien evades a lunge just a hair too slow: the tip of Flèche's blade scores a line along his torso, tearing his tee: beads of blood join beads of sweat.

Ladybug's mouth goes painfully dry.

They heft the kilogram bag of flour Tikki conjured. "Adrien!" they shout, and his glance twitches halfway to them; "Watch your eyes!" and they hurl the bag.

Adrien pivots perfectly, arm shielding his eyes, sword in the bag's path: it explodes in both fencers' faces, and Flèche shrieks in rage, flailing his sword sightlessly. Adrien engages the blades, giving Ladybug room to lunge in and snatch away the length of blue ribbon pinned to Flèche's collar.

The white butterfly flutters westward and the sparkling ladybugs swirl skyward and the première girl whose ribbon it was is tugging the de-akumatized boy forward and Ladybug is _staring_. Adrien's tee is in one piece again, the flour gone though the glistening sweat stayed; they're not sure about the blood. He's holding his bangs back and catching his breath, épée abandoned, watching Ladybug while trying to pretend he's not.

They've never seen Adrien so beautiful before.

(Four minutes.)

—They'll catch up with Chatonne later.

Now, there is only the impulse to seize Adrien by the waist ("come with me?" they ask, and Adrien nods) and cast their yo-yo and soar to a niche on the lycée roof where they won't be seen. Now, there is hiking up the left side of Adrien's shirt, letting gloved fingers trace the memory of that scored line, from breastbone across midriff almost to the hip. Now, there is feeling how Adrien's breaths come faster, louder, how Ladybug's blood hums warmer, stronger, how where they are pressed together is tingling, wanting more.

He catches their hand. "What are you doing?" he whispers, and Ladybug looks up: darkened eyes, flushed face, wrinkled brow. Like he wants them. But he's not quite sure.

"I heard you playing Fuck Marry Kill," Ladybug says, pitched low and with a slow smile. (It's true; Marinette did.) "I heard you want to fuck me."

Adrien sputters a moment, and looks up and west, biting his lip, and down at them again. "Are you offering?"

"Well," says Ladybug, and moves to lift their hand away. "If you don't _want_ to…"

(Three minutes.)

His grasp tightens on their wrist, keeping their hand hovering just above his skin; his fingers flex at their waist, as though he wants to hold them closer. "You can do anything you want," he promises them.

Ladybug smirks up at him and flicks open the button of his jeans.

"—Ooh," says Adrien, stumbling back half a step into the wall, drawing them with him as they drag his zipper down. "You—you meant it."

"Surprised, hot stuff?" _They_ are, whether _he_ is or not; Marinette had _not_ woken up this morning expecting to lay eyes on Adrien's dick today. Never mind draw it out through his boxers' fly and start to stroke—

Adrien hisses. Ladybug jerks their hand back, gaze leaping back to his face; Adrien reddens. "Scratchy," he says.

Ladybug frowns at the textured material of their glove. "Should have seen _that_ coming," they mutter, and Adrien bites back a laugh.

(Two minutes.)

There's absolutely nothing around for lube except spit and that gives Ladybug a much better idea. They slide down his leg to kneel at Adrien's feet, his hand catching and cradling the side of their head, and they lean in to kiss the tip of his penis.

Adrien sucks in a breath.

Ladybug starts to lick him, long strokes along the stiffening shaft. Their own groin is tightening and their breasts aching, untouched but for the breeze that tugs lightly at their hair; maybe the skin of Adrien's penis is too sensitive for their gloves, but he didn't seem to be complaining when they were touching his abs, so they run their hands up his sides and back down again, feeling him shudder.

They glance up. "Tell me what you want," they say.

Adrien chokes on a laugh. "Don't stop," he answers. "I've never—please don't stop—"

Ladybug doesn't stop.

(One minute—)

They rub his dick on their cheek, laughing. "How many licks to the center of an orgasm," Ladybug says; they have no earthly idea how long this is supposed to take and they maybe should have thought it through better—

"Talk about old-school," Adrien says—and stills, grabbing their shoulder. "Don't you have to run?"

Fucking—yes. "Hold that thought," Ladybug says, and rises. They press a kiss to Adrien's lips and vault over the dormer while he's still gaping.

"Spots off!" Ladybug whispers, and with a burst of red light it's just Marinette, crouching with their back against the wall. They catch Tikki with one hand, already digging the cookie stash out of their purse; Tikki knows Adrien's listening, of course, and doesn't say anything, but then she doesn't need to; her frown is eloquent enough.

Unmasked, they can feel so much _more_. The armor does something with bodily fluids and some forms of sensation; it's an absolute godsend when menstruating (especially when cramping), or when they need to stay masked and attentive for hours and can't hit a toilet. Now it's—slick panties and aching breasts and racing heart. The quiet sounds of Adrien's ragged breaths, an irregular rhythm setting off pulses of trembling want. The vibrant longing to clamber back over to him and damn their secret, damn whether anyone might see, damn whether _Chatonne_ might find them: the desire to shove their jeans and panties past their thighs, to have him cup their ass with one hand, their breast with the other, as Marinette's pussy envelops Adrien's dick as they hope he could want as fiercely as they do—

They bite back their keening whine. Behind them, they just hear Adrien's half-gasped whisper, carried on the breeze that brings the scent of his sweat and tries to take their self-restraint: "Fuck, _Ladybug_ —"

(Loving _hurts_.)

Tikki is at least kind enough to bolt the cookie, so Marinette can whisper "Spots on!" and get back to Adrien before they're _too_ tempted to start rubbing themself off.

Adrien's gripping himself when they land, jerking swift-stroked and bracing his other hand on the wall; his tee is damp under the armpits and he's fighting to keep his breath steady and quiet. Ladybug presses their full length against his body, kissing him breathless.

"You're beautiful," Adrien whispers when they draw away.

Ladybug shrugs, smirks, slides back to their knees. They start licking again, watching Adrien's expression: slack-jawed and wide-eyed, alternately drifting out of focus and slamming back in. His hand's stopped moving and it's in their way; they take it and hold it to their cheek, watching him watch them with—

No, that's ridiculous, why would Adrien feel so tenderly about _Ladybug_?

Adrien's hips jerk forward, and again, and Ladybug slides their right hand to his hipbone, holding him back against the wall. They don't want to fall from here. They don't want to float away, and right now they almost could: his hand soft on their left cheek is all that's keeping them grounded, his hand and the salty taste of his skin.

Ladybug keeps on licking long strokes along his penis, listening to the gasped little breaths he's trying to stifle and the pleased little hums they want only him to hear, flicking their thumb over the skin just at the edge of his jeans and feeling his tension and the heat where they touch. He grabs their shoulder, gripping like they're his lifeline; his hand on their cheek stays gentle, his thumb's motion a slow caress.

That's—this isn't about love because he doesn't love _them_ and they can't let themself believe he does. What this is about, they don't know, but not that.

Ladybug pulls back. They lift his hand from their cheek and wrap it around his dick, fingers carefully threaded so Ladybug's textured glove won't scratch his tender spots but it's still _their_ will directing this. Not Adrien's; he resists a moment, and Ladybug hesitates, looking up, but he squeezes his fingers around theirs and relaxes that hand, holding tighter to her shoulder and whispering " _Please_ , Bug" with such desperate longing that of course Ladybug tightens their grip, drawing his hand along his dick again and again. They won't break him. He won't _break_.

They rise a little, staying on their knees but they can't—they can't watch his face, not when he's looking at them with such velvet-soft _want_. And they're so warm and lightheaded—hot-air balloons have nothing on this—so they lean their head on the black cotton over his shuddering abdomen, focusing on how their hand moves his hand, how their breasts heave as they breathe, fast and hard and hot.

He squeezes their shoulder, almost painful; cloudy-white fluid spurts sticky across their breastbone, and without that tension holding him he almost falls: his head lands on their shoulder. "Wow," he whispers, with an amazed little laugh.

Ladybug's still burning, and he's—Adrien's too close, now, and not close enough. They tuck his dick back into his boxers, fumble up the zipper, feeling his breath on their neck, and get to their feet, hauling him upright with them. They don't want him seen with any suspicious clothing stains, so they don't hold him close. They don't press against him to hear his heart rate begin to calm. They don't lean up for a kiss.

Adrien smiles at them, relaxed and happy. "How do you want me to—" He gestures vaguely at them with the hand not still grasping their shoulder. "I mean, fair's fair?"

Tikki is probably grumpy enough. There's homework and a study session with Alya and the girls at Juleka's. Chatonne will _absolutely_ catch them and—never mind how they'll never hear the end of it; Ladybug does not want to _share_.

"Don't worry, handsome," Ladybug tells him; they know he trusts them, they know he won't truly doubt their word that it's all right. (It _is_ , in fact, all right. It will be exceedingly awkward if Marinette can't get ten minutes' privacy before needing to leave for Juleka's, and the thought of his hand on their bare ass and his fingers on their clit is one it's painful to set aside. But it _is_ all right.)

Adrien worries at his lip, squeezing their shoulder.

"I'll have sweet dreams tonight," Ladybug promises. They lick their lips, arresting his gaze, and smile back. "Now let's get you down before you're missed, all right?"

And before Marinette is, and before Chatonne comes looking for them…

* * *

Ladybug sets Adrienne down in an alley a couple of blocks away and vanishes with hardly another word: just "thank you, pretty boy" and "try not to get hurt again, okay?"

Adrienne leans weakly on the wall, thoughts bubbling and sparkling in blissful quiet, and stares after her.

"What brought that on?" she wonders.

Plagg hovers upside-down by her ear, cackling his head off, and Adrienne gives serious thought to backhanding her friend into the dumpster.

Nah, not worth it. The trash stink would follow her the rest of the day, and between the sweat she'll pretend is all from the fencing bout with the akuma (and hope no one's nose is sensitive enough to know otherwise) and the ever-present gym-socks odor of Plagg's Camembert, Adrienne is smelly enough already. "Come on," she mutters, ignoring how Plagg laughs harder, and slips out of the alley to wander back to fencing practice, if it's even still on.

Her anxious mind will start turning over every aspect of this to hunt out every possible suggestion and implication, everything good this might mean and every possible way it could go sour, soon enough. But not yet. For now?

Ladybug knows what her cock tastes like, and she seems to like it. She'll go home tonight, if she hasn't already, to touch herself and dream of _Adrienne_.

What's happened once might happen again.

Knowing this meant something to Ladybug is the only way it could mean more to Adrienne.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Dreamwidth](https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](http://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/).


End file.
